


Voices in my Head

by daretogobeyondtheunknown



Category: Saving Hope
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:52:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daretogobeyondtheunknown/pseuds/daretogobeyondtheunknown





	1. Chapter 1

In the sea of silence, the watchful eyes hang like a noose of obligation you never once asked for.

_“Is that-”_

_“Did she-”_

They are the words whispered, whose sound you don’t hear. Their lips are the only telltale and with narrowed eyes and a vision that blurs in and out of focus you strain, caught on the edge for more.

More of what, you don’t know. Assumptions, perhaps. Truth, unlikely.

Regardless of what it is, the noose still hangs and you wonder if you’ll ever truly feel free. Or maybe, like a bought soul, you’re damned to a death that is not finite but eternal, replaying over and over until time itself ceases.

Peace is a state, you believe, you’ll never reach. Not with the cast of expectation and the unwillingness of your mind to relinquish its hold.

They’re only as powerful as you allow it.

_“She’ll never-”_

Funny enough, you allow it to be  _everything_. Because it’s easier to fall into line than it is to be brave, to speak when no one will hear.

No one but you, that is.

“ _What a-”_

Why can’t you be enough?

“Hey, everything okay?”

A ripple breaks the silence, nearly imperceivable. But you see it, feel it in a way you’ve never felt anything before. It’s a like a brilliant flash of lightening, deafening and blinding, as it crackles through the air, striking next to you. All the while, the sky is clear.

There are words and emotions and a feeling of condemnation that weighs on your soul  _endlessly_. You want to whisper  _no_ and beg for mercy and cry tears you are sure you don’t have.

“Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lies are damnable but this lie you have to believe will be forgiven, will be understood in a way that you do not. Because if it isn’t, you aren’t sure what you’ll do.

“You tell me.”

You want to. More than anything, you want to say  _everything_. All the words you’ve ever held, under the eyes of expectation and condemnation, you want it to pour forth, steady like the stream from a facet, unimpeded. But you can’t -  _won’t_  - because there is the noose and its hold and you wonder if you’ll ever be free.

It makes your heart weep with the tears your eyes won’t shed.

“But you won’t, will you?”

Amidst dry land, you’re drowning, lungs filling on unspoken words, wayward stares and unwept tears. Of course you won’t, because to do so would be to acknowledge the very darkness settled in the corners of your soul. Darkness no one is supposed to  _know_.

“Why do you keep doing this? You-”

Her lips feel like oxygen and you fight for more.

She isn’t wrong in her condemnation or rather her appointment of the obvious. But you’d rather not acknowledge it or any of the gasps or garbled whispers, all demeaning and every bit dehumanizing. It just hurts too much: too much to speak it, too much to acknowledge it, too much to act upon it.

It feels like fighting a battle that no matter the outcome, you’ve already lost, every possible odd stacked against you.

“Please. Just-”

When you beg, you aren’t sure for what, but her flesh is grounding and Lord knows you need  _something_  to keep you standing. If only you could draw her close, meld your bodies and breath together indefinitely, leaning on her strength when you feel you have none.

See the good she sees in you.

“Okay.”

You weep. Weep tears you can’t possibly have in the arms of a woman you can’t possibly keep. All around are the voices, angry and shouting and playing the most vicious of matches in your head. There is the obligation and the noose.

_“If I were her I’d-”_

It is all  _so very much_.


	2. Chapter 2

“Have you seen, Syd?”

The day feels like a whirlwind and all Maggie wants is to be free.

She loves Hope Zion and she loves the friends she has made. But love is a word that seems fickle when Maggie also believes that she loves lattes and goose feather pillows.

“No-ppppp-e.”

Zach pops the p and honestly, Maggie isn’t sure what his fascination with strung out syllables and one word answers are.

“Okay…”

She wishes he could just sense long days and act in accordance to her fluctuating mood. But then again, he is only human and Maggie wouldn’t trade his oddities for anything.

Expect maybe Syd and some really nice goose feather pillows.

“Maybe try the room on four with the yellow stripes.”

Mostly neglected, it smells strongly of disinfectant and some other mix of distinctly hospital smell. The yellow stripes remind Maggie of the colonial yellow popular in the 1960s and the house next to her grandparents; all cob webbed and crooked smiles.

Maggie shudders at the thought.

It adds to the weight of the day, the potential of Syd hiding away in one of the more leery halls, a place she knows Maggie is not fond of.

“You’re welcome!”

Ignoring Zach is not difficult; it is honestly a lot like second nature at this point. One of the quirks of their friendship, Maggie supposes as she takes the steps two at a time. The elevator would be quickest but that would mean standing stoic and Maggie isn’t sure stoic is something she can muster right now.

*

Zach isn’t wrong in his assumption.

Sydney is pacing the small space with such ferocity Maggie’s sure there is a path forming in the linoleum. There are soft utterings, too gentle to actually hear, and a pinch in her brow that Maggie has come to dub the “Look of Self Depreciation”.

It isn’t the calm easy wind down to her day Maggie had originally imagined but she supposes things could be worse. Sydney could be gone and Maggie could be alone all over again.

“Hey, everything okay?”

She looks like a breathtakingly beautiful doe caught in the headlights. Maggie has to remind herself that while this Sydney is beautiful, it is equally apt to withdraw, mentally and physically.

“Yeah. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

It’s all defensive and while the pacing has stopped, Maggie sees the way her arms cross, strung tightly across her chest. It is as closed off and as small as Sydney can possibly make herself and it breaks Maggie’s heart in a way she is starting to think only Sydney Katz can.

“You tell me.”

Nothing about it is meant to stab, to become the verbal embodiment of an attack. All Maggie wants is for Sydney to let her in, past the set of cultural customs and self-depreciating loathing. But Maggie watches Sydney withdraw all the more, the verbal barrage playing out in the lenses of her mesmerizingly beautiful eyes.

All Maggie wants is to take away the pain, soothe the open wounds with her embrace as the healing balm. But Maggie is tired and what slips past her lips is a far cry from the love and affection she feels.

“But you won’t, will you?”

No, what slips past is the frustrations that have compiled throughout the day, brought to a tipping point by the seemingly endless uphill battle against Sydney’s invisible demons; of culture, of belief, of expectations, of unseen eyes.

“Why do you keep doing this? You-”

But as quickly as the fire is ignited, Maggie feels it extinguish, crushed the by the invisible burdens on Sydney’s shoulders and the tremor in her frame. This isn’t what she wants for them, this isn’t how they are meant to be, always teetering on the edge of implosion.

“Please. Just-”

The tears are an undoing Maggie feels she might just forever live.

“Okay.”

It is simple to embrace Sydney, to allow her tears to trail down her collar, an image so in opposition to the strength Maggie knows Sydney is. Somewhere - everywhere - it aches and as Maggie feels each tremor, she wishes she could take it all away, erase every fear, every insecurity and consume Sydney with a love that knows no end, no limits.

Maggie wants to see a glass half full – full of potential, full of hope – and she is willing to fight for it. The only question left unanswered is whether Sydney will too.


End file.
